


in the morning

by itsmylifekay



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Hurt Alex Manes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Michael Guerin, not really canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 00:36:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18680521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: After everything with Max and Michael and Maria is sorted out, Alex is still trying to fight his own battles. Unfortunately, casualties are often a part of the mix."Max Evans wasn’t who Alex expected to be speaking to at the very end, but he supposed he wasn’t in a position to complain. Nothing in life had been how he expected, anyway. Not really."





	in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a random future time, after Max has been brought back, Michael and Maria have separated, but Michael and Alex are still not 100%. And of course Alex is still trying to burn his father's legacy to the ground and being a bit of a stubborn idiot in the process.

 

Alex stared at the beat up trailer door in front of him, arm clutched over his stomach and fingers stained red. His hand was slippery, dark and wet, leaving a smear behind each time he knocked. Once. Twice. It was harder to drag his hand away each time, harder to keep his eyes open, to keep his knees from buckling. The irony wasn’t lost on him, surviving as much as he had only to die now, his father’s words echoing in his ears “ _to protect you_ ”. To protect him, as if his father had even been capable of that. Lost his heart, his leg, and now his life, his father wasn’t capable of anything even close to protection wherever Alex was involved.

He took a shallow, rasping breath, digging in his jacket for his phone. If he couldn’t tell Michael himself, face to face like he wanted, then this was the next best thing. Blood smeared the screen and his fingers shook.

The line rang, and rang, then picked up with a muffled sigh from the other side.

“Hello?”

Max Evans wasn’t who Alex expected to be speaking to at the very end, but he supposed he wasn’t in a position to complain. Nothing in life had been how he expected, anyway. Not really.

“It’s over,” Alex rasped, clearing his throat and trying to swallow back some of the blood. “The project, I—I shut it down.”

“Alex?” Max already sounded significantly more alert. He heard another, softer voice in the background and felt a pang of regret that Liz might have to hear this. She had experienced enough trauma in her life. Enough death.

“Your files are marked as non-threat,” Alex breathed through the next wave of pain. “It’s over. You’re free, all three of you.”

He stumbled down off the steps, back hitting the side of the trailer with a dull thump before he slid to the ground in an ungraceful sprawl.

“Alex, where are you?” That was definitely the sheriff voice. Alex didn’t want that, not now. He heard the jangle of keys.

“Tell Michael for me, please? And Isobel.” He coughed, groaning at the pain it tore from his stomach.

“Tell them yourself,” Max said. “Now where are you?”

Alex looked up at the sky, the endless stretch of stars and darkness that Michael saw as home. “I hope he finds it,” he murmured, head falling back, eyes heavy.

He heard Max’s voice from a distance, something about Kyle, about Michael. An engine started up and Alex’s phone buzzed against where it was pressed cold and sticky to his face.

Incoming call from Michael.

He blinked at it once, hit to accept the call with clumsy fingers.

“Alex?” Michael’s voice was loud and Alex winced away from it, breathing shallowly and looking back up at the night sky.

“Hey, Michael,” he said, voice thick and slow. “Where are you?”

“Where am—Where are _you_?” Michael sounded desperate, scared, and Alex hated it.

“Only had one place to go,” he said, tried to explain. In hindsight, he hadn’t really thought this through. He knew he had to tell Michael, wanted to tell him himself, wanted to lay his actions out on his feet like some kind of sacrifice, some way to absolve him of his sins. But maybe that had been selfish, because now the siblings will have one more death to explain, one more body tied to their names. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Michael sucked in a breath, then cursed. “He’s at the trailer, turn around. Tell Max to meet us there.” Tires screeched and then Michael’s voice was louder, more urgent in his ear. “Alex? Alex? C’mon, talk to me. Goddamnit, Alex, please.”

“The stars,” Alex said slowly. “Are really beautiful from here.” His prosthetic had stopped hurting awhile ago, and now that numbness was curling around his fingers, making his grip loose on the phone. He took it away from his face and fumbled to put it on speaker, setting it on his thigh before letting his hand drop heavy to his side. His eyes stared up at the sky.

“-ex? Alex! Please. Please, don’t—”

Alex wasn’t sure how much time passed. Everything felt thick and syrupy like molasses, his entire body heavy and dark, like the darkness of the night sky was pressing in and filling every crevice beneath his skin. Headlights swept across his face and he closed his eyes against them, groaning at the pain but unable to move away, only finding relief when a body came and blocked their glare, wide shoulders and wild hair illuminated by their light.

“Michael,” he breathed, staring up at the other man’s face, but not really registering what he saw there until he saw Michael roughly wipe away some tears. Michael’s hand covered his where it was weakly draped over his stomach, pressing down and putting pressure back on the wound. Alex whimpered slightly, but Michael hushed him, other hand cupping Alex’s cheek. A forehead touched against his own.

“Stay awake,” he urged. “Max is on his way and he’ll—he’ll fix it.”

Alex shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “This is my legacy, Michael. My family finally getting what it deserves.”

“Stop it,” Michael pushed his hand back through Alex’s hair, giving the hairs at the nape of his neck a slight tug before going back to framing his face. “I thought I was your family, huh? You think I deserve this?”

“You deserve better, always have.” Alex felt the guilt rise up and consume him, untouched despite the life he was about to give up in payment for what his father and brothers had done. He knew he was just as dirty. Had hurt Michael just as much as they had, deeper, gone straight for the heart. He couldn’t ever make up for that.

He leaned ever so slightly into Michael’s touch and closed his eyes, letting himself have this, just this. Undeserving but so thankful to have Michael with him at the end.

He didn’t hear the crunch of tires, the slam of a door or the hurried steps over dry, packed ground. Michael’s voice swirled around him, fear and desperation thick in the words. He drifted, only brought back by a sudden, searing pain his side that sent fire running through his veins, a shout ripped from his throat as some foreign energy coursed through him. For a split second, he was back in Iraq, captured somewhere and tied down.

Firm hands grasped his face. “Alex,” a familiar voice urged. “Alex, please, open your eyes.”

His breaths were too fast, too shallow. The pain had ebbed, but everything was buzzing, everything was… he couldn’t feel his leg. Oh god, he couldn’t feel his leg. Panic seized his chest.

Hands were on him, pulling and tugging and his face was pressed to something soft and warm. Familiar. He dragged in a shaking breath and felt something inside him loosen. Sweat and grease, alcohol and acetone and motor oil. Michael’s hands were large and firm on the side of his neck, rubbing up and down his back, holding him close.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Fuck, Alex. Come on. Come back to me.”

Alex groaned, blinking back into the present and not sure if it was shock or embarrassment that had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never get up again. He gripped the front of Michael’s shirt and took in another shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said. A thought occurred to him and he sat up quickly, head spinning as he tried to squint past the glare of the headlights and into the surrounding shadows. “Max—Is he okay?”

Firm hands tugged at his shoulders, at his neck, until his face was pressed back into Michael’s neck, one hand threading through his hair to keep him there.

“Max is fine,” Michael said, basically dragging Alex into his lap in a bid to keep him still.  “He’s got Liz and Isobel and as much acetone as he needs.”

Alex could hear familiar, hushed voices in the background and nodded, relief flooding him now that he knew they were all safe. He drifted again, coming to when he heard another car door slam, followed by angry whispers above his head.

He opened his eyes and was met with Kyle knelt in front of him, a flashlight almost immediately shone into his eyes. His head throbbed with pain and he pushed away from Michael, trying to get up but stumbling when his bad leg screamed in protest at the sudden strain.

A strong arm wrapped immediately around his waist, hauling him the rest of the way upright and keeping him propped against a sturdy chest. Alex clenched his jaw, keeping as much weight off his prosthetic as he could, resisting the urge to snap at Michael when the other man took even more of his weight, all but carrying him by that point.

Kyle approached again and Michael pointed at his chest. “I swear, Valenti, you make him try and run again, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Alright, tough guy. You’re the one who was worried he’d passed out,” he rolled his eyes and turned to Alex. “How’re you feeling?”

Alex held his gaze and pushed himself up a little straighter. “Fine.”

Kyle shook his head and sighed. “Well, considering everyone here knows that’s a lie, I’m not even going to bother arguing. But you’re not leaving here on your own, and that’s final.”

“I’ve got him,” Michael said, still warm and solid at Alex’s side. “I can take him back to the cabin, stay with him there.”

Kyle nodded then pointed a finger at Alex. “We’ll talk about what the hell you did tomorrow, when I won’t feel so bad about telling you off for it.” He turned to Michael. “He does anything vaguely worrying, you call me. Got it?”

Michael threw a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

Kyle pulled away with a faint cloud of dirt and Michael readjusted his hold on Alex, turning towards where Max and Liz were waiting by their own car, Isobel by Max’s side as well.

Michael cleared his throat. “Max, you good?”

The two brothers shared a look and Max nodded, standing up and finishing another bottle of acetone before tossing it into the bag Isobel was holding. “I’m good. You got him?”

Michael nodded back, smiling slightly at the disgruntled frown on Alex’s face.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, give him a night to rest. You sure no one’s coming after you?”

He addressed the last question to Alex, who shook his head. “They think I’m dead. It’ll take them a while to figure out I’m not.”

Michael tensed beside him, but Max just watched him thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. “Alright, you can fill us all in tomorrow.”

Liz walked over and carefully pulled Alex into an awkward hug, Michael still wrapped around him for support. She put one small hand on the side of his face. “Don’t ever scare us like that again. We’ve lost enough people already.” She reached up and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of him.” She patted Michael’s arm before turning away and joining Max and Isobel in their car, pulling out and leaving Michael and Alex alone by the airstream.

Michael wasted no time before ushering Alex to his truck.

“There’s probably blood all over your front seat and I’m not sitting in that all the way back to your cabin,” he said, drowning out Alex’s complaints. Alex was honestly too tired to argue, generally letting himself be manhandled with minimal grousing, a fact that had Michael almost more worried than relieved.

The drive back to the cabin felt like a dream, Alex staring up at the stars and Michael silent beside him. Time passed in jumps, blinking once to find miles behind them, again and they were parked in front of the cabin, engine cooling with gentle clicks, Michael walking around the front of the cab.

“Alright, let’s get you inside.”

Alex tried to maneuver himself out the door, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to jump down on his own. His bad leg was stiff and painful and as wiped out as he was, there’s no way he could guarantee keeping his balance. So he let Michael help him down, arm going back around his waist as they hobbled towards the door, then the bathroom. They both stripped down to their boxers and Michael helped wipe off the blood, touch warm and careful against Alex’s skin.

Then they were in bed, Alex’s head on Michael’s shoulder and Michael’s arms curled protectively around him. Michael kissed him once on the top of the head, then bent down to kiss his forehead. Alex melted into the touch, trying to burn every moment into his memory.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Michael murmured, mouth still pressed to Alex’s skin. He pushed some hair from Alex’s forehead and smiled at the sleepy look on his face. “I’m asking Liz to help me bubblewrap you tomorrow.”

Alex huffed, smiling and closing his eyes. “Michael?” he asked.

Michael hummed.

“We can talk in the morning, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael’s arms tightened around him, another kiss pressed to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be here. Promise.”

 

 

 


End file.
